


Do you love me ?

by Hyobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Give it a read, I made myself cry I'm so lame, M/M, and if you cry know that me too, go ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 06:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11961288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyobe/pseuds/Hyobe
Summary: He can't do it, he's too weak for that and he knows it.





	Do you love me ?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the WWC of August based on Do you love me by The Contours, I hope you enjoyed.

« - I’m home. »  
No one answered him. Good, Sam was probably out. He kicked the door closed, making his way to the table to drop the grocery bags on it as he slouched in the chair next to him. Dean whistled, grabbing a magazine. There was music and a low buzz in the room, some sort of electronic purr coming from the bathroom. Usually it came from the heater or AC but both were turned off. He knew that because when he came in the other day, he had been the one to turn them off, it was fall and there was no need for both of those thing, they were too noisy at night and it disturbed them when they had to sleep. Not a major thing, they had managed nights through worse but still, he could always appreciate silent nights. When he had been with John, they weren’t many, when he had been apart from Sam the nights were far from lonely and now that Sam was there, he could enjoy those kind of nights. Sam didn’t want to talk to him most of the time and made sure to sleep with his back turned to him, so even if he snored, Dean heard only small noises that didn’t disturbed him at all. It used to soothe him, Sam’s breathing, when they had had a difficult hunt and Sam had been up all night waiting for them, for him. He’d rush to Dean and they’d sleep in the same bed, just reassuring each other. He missed those times, he really did.  
He sighed and dropped the magazine, he didn’t feel like reading anymore, plus the noise was still here and it disturbed him. The music not so much, it wasn’t his genre but hey, Sam was free to listen to whatever he wants. Dean stood up, turning towards the bathroom. He tried to open it but it was closed. Maybe Sam was in there after all ? He knocked softly, pressing his ear to the bathtub.

 _You broke my heart_  
_Cause I couldn't dance_  
_You didn't even want me around_  

« - Sam can you please turn off that thing you’re using ? Not the music, just the buzzing thingy. »  
No one answered him. Instead he heard a small cry, a pained noise. Was Sam crying in there ? Why ? Was it that Jessica thing again ? Not that he blamed him for it, he just got annoyed every time someone mentioned her. Jealousy. He waited against the door for something else, the noise to vanish, the cries to start again, for Sam to open the door but nothing came. All remained the same. He knocked again. Nothing. _What the hell_ ?  
Dean tried to open the door again. Worry. Maybe Sam was unconscious in there ? Maybe he had fallen and couldn’t open the door ? Cold sweat pooled in the crook of his back. His heart beat faster. He could kick the door down ? But then what if Sam was just in there trying to get some privacy ? He’d be so mad at Dean. On the other hand, maybe Sam was on the floor, hurt.  
In a second flat his feet was against the door, kicking as hard as he could but it wouldn’t open. He kicked harder and harder, charged it again and again until it came down.

_And now I'm back_  
_To let you know_  
_I can really shake 'em down_

Sam was on the floor. Towel around his hips sliding slowly, wet hair sticking to his face and the blue tiles, body covered with water drops, teeth grounded together, eyes rolling to the back of his head, muscles contracting too fast and electricity traveling through his body. He was foaming, tense as a bow, arching on the floor next to his hairdryer.  
Dean stared, pupils blowing wider by the second as the reality of the situation slipped into his mind. He’s dying. He rushed to the hairdryer’s cord, ripping it off the plug as the electricity died down, as Sam’s seizures stopped. Dean dived towards Sam, grabbing him to hold him, he was so hot it burned but he was the last one to care about that. He lifted him, rushing through the bed where he laid him. Dean grabbed his phone, dialing 911. No hospitals dad said, never but he didn’t know how to fix this, he didn’t know how to heal this. This time he can’t save Sam himself, this time he’s not worthy enough to take care of Sam. A woman answers, tells him not to leave his position, to wait until they come. He doesn’t want to. He needs Sam to be good now. He needs him to be fixed right now. Dean throws his phone on the table and sits next to Sam. He slides his fingers between Sam’s, caressing with his thumb the back of his hand. Sam’s beautiful when he’s asleep, when he doesn’t move like that. He looks peaceful, as if all his worries, pains, troubles had been erased from his mind. It reminds him of when they were small and he used to watch Sam in his crib. So peaceful.  
Dean’s always loved him. He knows that the second he saw this small toothless smile, he had fallen for his little brother. Not a sensual love, not a passing love, nothing like in the movies or books that transmit cheesy story for teenage girls. No, it was a craving love. A love that punches you everywhere, a love you want so much it hurts, a love that consumes you, that breaks you in thousands of pieces and gives you to the object of such love, offers you so they can put you back together. A love that overcomes anything. Dean would die for Sam, he would do anything for him. Anything.  
He hears the sirens nearby but he doesn’t pay attention, he’s leaning over Sam, pressing a kiss to his lips as his tears fall on Sam’s cheek. He’s so cold, Dean thinks. So, so cold.  
Other tears sheds as he understands that he’s back to being thousands of pieces, that he’s been shattered again. Sam is dead, and there is nothing he can do to change it. Not a single thing.

_Do you love me?_  
_(I can really move)_  
_Do you love me?_

People are knocking against the door, banging their fists and screaming but he doesn’t hear them. He can’t. Not now. Dean slides a hand down his leg, lifting his jeans to get his knife. He has to join Sam now. He can’t leave without Sam, not a second time. He can handle everything but this. The door falls down behind him but he’s fast, he places the blade against his throat and slides fast, cuts the flesh deep enough for it to be fatal. He doesn’t feel a thing, he just looks at Sam, enjoys the last thing he sees before he falls.

**His little brother.**


End file.
